One of the first thoughts that cross my mind when I wake up in the morning is that I have not yet written a single piece under that day’s date. An oppressive obsession, to be sure. Which is why I am more than happy whenever I remember a dream, for the first piece is kind of ready already. As luck would have it, I do not remember even a snippet of a dream from last night. The obsession is particularly oppressive this morning, it goes without saying. By way of revenge, I will start the day with a piece reporting on it. The damned obsession. What is more, I will thus have the first piece with today’s date. There.

Addendum (March 29, 2016)

Things have changed as of a few months ago, though. And for the better. Much better, as a matter of fact. Whenever it crosses my mind that I have not yet written a single piece or addendum under a day’s date, I rejoice. Perhaps this particular day’s date will be missing forever from my writings? Hooray! And the number of fallow days, which is how I call them as of late, has been growing at a clip. So far this year, there have been seventeen of them already (“My Self-Denial,” 2016). With some luck, most days will be fallow in a few short years. And the title of this piece will turn out to be prophetic, albeit in reverse.